


5 + 1: Interruptions

by Maverocknroll



Series: Notorious [2]
Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: #bobsaysshipem, M/M, Public Sex, assholes affectionately calling each other 'idiot' in more than one language, drow handcode is the Faerunian equivalent of sexting, jarlaxle has no shame, sassmasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverocknroll/pseuds/Maverocknroll
Summary: PostEye of the Storm. Five times Jarlaxle and Entreri's more...amorousendeavors were interrupted or put on hold, plus one time they actually made it to a bed. A happy ending for all.(Mostly a 'fun' piece, but there are still some important character notes that might crop up in future fics.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, _first off_ , major, huge, amazing thank-you for those of you who commented on _Eye of the Storm_ and encouraged that general insanity as it was being posted. It is completely your fault that I'm writing more with these two!
> 
> In writing this, I was again reminded that it is much, much easier for me to write longer, more complicated pieces like _Eye of the Storm_ than it is to write shorter, self-contained pieces. Seriously. How do people do this on a regular basis? Anyway, this fic is more of a 'filler', a ~~mostly~~ lighthearted interlude between _Eye of the Storm_ and my next longer piece ~~(one word: dracolich)~~ , just to let you guys know I'm still screaming at Word Documents in the hopes that Jartemis goodness will appear.

Jarlaxle was, perhaps, having a bit too much fun with this assignment.

“Treachery, intrigue. Illegal sources of income. What’s not to like?” Jarlaxle’s grin was all teeth as he wrapped an arm around Entreri’s shoulders. Breath misted in front of his face that frosty afternoon, and Entreri pretended not to notice the stares that met them as they passed.

“I am not a drug mule.”

“No, no, of course not,” Jarlaxle assured him, waving a hand dismissively. “Neither am I!”

Entreri gave him a dubious look.

“Please. It’s all in the advertising.” Jarlaxle patted a bag at his hip, voice pitched low as he spoke. “These mushrooms are a delicacy in the Underdark, delicious with roasted rothe and a light wine sauce, but they hardly have the, ah, ‘transformative’ powers of some of the more poisonous varieties.”

Entreri gave him a sidelong look. “You’re… selling them a side-dish?”

“Not everything in the Underdark has a nefarious purpose, _mal’ai_.” Jarlaxle favored him with a crooked smile, and Entreri noted that he was given the side without the eyepatch, Jarlaxle’s red eye gleaming as he looked Entreri up and down. “Though I’m sure you could find a nefarious purpose for me.”

Jarlaxle really was too good at that, at turning everything into a sexual innuendo. And it was more than innuendo now, Entreri reminded himself as Jarlaxle swung around to face him, stopping him in his tracks and pressing them close together. It was a _suggestion_ , and Artemis had a harder time waving that off.

“Perhaps two?” Jarlaxle went on with his teasing, his arm still a warm weight around Artemis’ shoulders.

“More than two, I suspect,” Entreri replied in kind, hands settling on Jarlaxle’s hips, and Jarlaxle bit his lip around a grin. Artemis was all too aware of the heat of Jarlaxle’s body against his, and he was still getting used to just how Interested his own body was in that.

But Entreri was never one to let a distraction affect his work, no matter how good that distraction was with his hands. “However, you know as well as I do that we shouldn’t be seen together just now,” he said, dodging Jarlaxle’s lips as the drow leaned in for a kiss.

Jarlaxle huffed and waved that thought aside too. “So you can borrow my mask, later. Let them see someone else.” He pouted when Artemis dodged his lips again, pulling away.

“We have no time for that, ‘ _mal’ai_ ’,” Entreri teased, taking some pleasure in Jarlaxle’s frustration.

“We have _some_ time,” Jarlaxle protested.

“ _You_ have an appointment.” Entreri gently nudged Jarlaxle back a step. “I will see you back at the tavern.”

“Oh, the conditions I am forced to endure!” Jarlaxle lamented, hand over his heart as he stepped backwards in the direction Artemis had nudged him, eyes on Artemis until he turned into the alley.

“Idiot,” Entreri muttered, sounding dangerously close to fond.

 

Entreri ordered a drink and readied to play his part, setting himself up in the shadowed corner of the tavern. Their employer was a paranoid man, convinced his employees were stealing from him, and he’d hired the pair of them to find out if they were.

Of course they were. They were thieves moonlighting as drug smugglers. It was proving it that would be the tricky part.

Or maybe not, Entreri dryly reflected when a particular drow swaggered into the tavern. Maybe getting Jarlaxle to stick to the plan was the tricky part.

“So,” Jarlaxle said as he slid into the seat next to Artemis. “Come here often?”

“That seat’s reserved.”

“For me? How kind of you!”

“Jarlaxle,” Entreri growled, still watching the door.

“We may need to adjust our plans.” Jarlaxle stole Entreri’s tankard for a sip, sounding much too cheerful about the situation. He licked his lips, frowning down at the drink. “Bitter.”

Entreri took back his drink and slid it to the side, out of Jarlaxle’s reach. “What did you do?”

“Why do you always assume _I_ did something?”

Entreri just favored him with a dry look and an arched eyebrow, and Jarlaxle put away the look of persecuted innocence.

“You make a compelling argument,” he conceded, and Entreri didn’t miss that Jarlaxle was eyeing the door too. “And I did nothing. Your ‘contact’ is still on his way here to sell you my ‘wares’.”

“But?”

“ _But_ , it’s starting to look like he and his associates are planning to stage a coup.”

“Ah.” So this was more than a thief skimming a little something off the top.

“Ah,” Jarlaxle agreed, diatryma feather bobbing as he nodded.

Entreri sat back, fingers tracing the curve of his tankard handle. “This complicates things.” He cared not what happened to his ‘employer’—in fact, he relished the idea of a knife through his heart—but he rather enjoyed getting paid.

“Indeed. But let’s try not to kill him yet.”

Entreri quirked an eyebrow. “Do you plan to be here for that? If he sees you, he won’t even bother sitting down.”

“Then he had best not see me, hm?”

The way he said it, Entreri expected Jarlaxle to put on Agatha’s Mask, to drink a potion, something, to change his shape, but when Entreri glanced over, it was to see him slipping under the table.

“What—?”

“Element of surprise, _mal’ai_.”

With a flutter of his cloak, he became simply another shadow, and Entreri fought the urge to look under the table to see what he was doing. Jarlaxle’s body was a warm weight against his legs, and Entreri supposed this could work, with anyone sitting across from him in for a nasty surprise before long.

He was just relaxing back into his chair, ale halfway to his lips, when he was the one met with a surprise. He nearly choked as a slender hand worked its way up his thigh.

“ _Jarlaxle_ ,” Entreri hissed out, glancing around the room to make sure no one was seeing this, magic cloak or no.

“I was growing bored.”

“ _It is hardly the time for this!_ ”

Jarlaxle shushed him. “Everyone will think you’re talking to yourself.”

His breath hitched when Jarlaxle’s hand followed the inseam of his trousers to its point of origin, and then there was a second hand nudging his legs apart, the body against his legs shifting to press between them.

Artemis was going to kill him.

“There is no way your cloak is hiding all of this,” he grumbled, hiding his lips behind a sip from his tankard but not quite hiding the strain in his voice.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jarlaxle asked from somewhere near his crotch, his warm breath making Artemis shiver.

“…I hate you.”

Jarlaxle laughed, correctly interpreting that as a “no” as he started to pluck at Artemis’ laces.

When Entreri spotted the grizzled man in the doorway, looking around and pausing when he caught sight of their corner, Entreri poked a hand under the table and signed for Jarlaxle to be quiet. He expected that to be the end of Jarlaxle’s games, but the drow found a more direct way to silence himself, his tongue pulling Artemis into his mouth. Artemis took a sip of ale to hide the strangled sound trying to make its way up his throat.

His contact sank into the chair across from him and regarded Entreri with flinty eyes and an unfriendly smile.

“You’re Liev?” Entreri asked, focusing on the task at hand and letting his voice adopt a nervous edge, picking at his fingernails with the vibrating lack of stillness he’d seen in addicts.

“I’m Liev,” the man said with a voice full of rocks, tipping his head.

Entreri opened his mouth to continue when Jarlaxle did something wicked with his tongue, and it took all of Entreri’s iron control not to let anything show on his face.

He could picture Jarlaxle’s smirk.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show,” Entreri went on, finally remembering his words.

“Sorry,” Liev said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Do you have the…?” He trailed off, half because the word was unnecessary, half because Jarlaxle was making this infuriatingly difficult. Entreri didn’t need to fake the awkward squirming, though he did struggle to keep his breathing even.

“’Course. But what’s the rush? Why don’t ya buy me a drink first?”

That had Entreri’s hackles up, and even Jarlaxle paused in his… ministrations, telling Artemis that he understood too: their friend ‘Liev’ suspected they weren’t who they said they were.

“I have places to be,” Entreri said.

“What places?” Liev asked, almost conversationally.

A drow hand poked out from under the table, and Entreri read the rapid-fire hand movements out of the corner of his eye: _he’s stalling to make sure his men are in position_.

Great.

The mouth returned with a slide of tongue that almost undid Artemis right there, and Artemis amended his earlier thought: Jarlaxle was going to kill _him_.

“Anywhere not here,” Entreri grated out, knuckles white where he gripped his tankard.

“Anywhere?” Liev asked as though pleasantly curious. His hands were below the level of the table, and Entreri watched the barest flexing of his shoulder muscles to gauge what weapon he was reaching for. “You don’t have somewhere ta report to? Someone, I should say?”

Entreri felt Jarlaxle shift against his thigh, then watched the color drain from Liev’s face. Liev looked down at himself and then at Entreri’s hands on the table, confusion twisting his expression, and Jarlaxle slid off of Entreri with a parting lick. Entreri let out a sigh that couldn’t decide if it was relieved or disappointed.

“Hello again, Liev.” Jarlaxle’s voice came out in a purr, and though Entreri couldn’t see what was happening from where he was sitting, he had no doubt Jarlaxle had a blade to Liev’s… well, it could be to anything below his waist, but from the gray pallor of his face, Entreri could guess.

Entreri reached down to put himself away, his blood quickly cooling, though not as much as he would like. He was a bit chagrined to find that the threat of danger was not the deterrent it should have been.

Liev hissed through his teeth. “I _knew_ I shouldn’t have trusted a drow.”

“Well, you should trust that I have no compunctions against castrating you if you do anything with that handcrossbow. Why don’t you be a good boy and put that on the table where my partner can see it?”

Face tight, Liev complied. The crossbow was a small but clunky thing, nothing like the weapons drow wielded.

“I’ve seen better,” Entreri drawled.

“So have I,” Jarlaxle replied, the sound that squeaked through Liev’s teeth telling Entreri that he had moved the blade. And that he wasn’t referring to the crossbow.

“I should hope so.”

“What do you want?” Liev grated out.

“Well, either my associate and I were clumsier than I think we were, or you have someone close to Maksym in your pocket, tipping you off.”

“What of it?”

“What of it?” Jarlaxle parroted theatrically. “Have you no imagination? We are working a job, you understand, and we do mean to be paid.”

Another squeak from Liev. Entreri casually sipped at his drink.

“But perhaps we could come to some arrangement?” Jarlaxle suggested.

They took Liev’s gurgling grumble as a ‘yes’.

 

Their night had been busy. Liev had paid them half upfront for the assassination of Maksym, with the agreement to have the other half ready at an agreed-upon rendezvous point. Maksym had been displeased with the depth of Liev’s treachery and had paid the pair their original price, as well as a bonus to kill Liev instead.

In the end, Liev and his most loyal supporters were dead, and Jarlaxle and Entreri had been paid twice and then some.

“A rather good night’s work, I’d say,” Jarlaxle said cheerfully as they made their way back to the inn. “A round of drinks to celebrate?”

But Entreri tugged him away from the bar and towards the stairs. He had been dealing with no small amount of frustration all night. “Later. I have a few nefarious uses for you first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes/"chapters" vary in length. This was one of the longer ones, but the next one's pretty short.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the shortest one, but it's the one that probably had me cackling the most while writing, ngl.

“ _Gods_!” Jarlaxle panted, clutching the sheets, mouth wide open in an expression of bliss. He made a mental note to tease Artemis more often if it led to this, to being bent over the edge of the bed and taken within an inch of his life. “ _Xas-! Xas-!_ ” He reached behind him to grab Entreri’s hip, encouraging the punishing rhythm, voice rising in pitch as Artemis pushed him closer and closer to the edge, and—

And Artemis abruptly stopped. Jarlaxle blinked at the sheets and whined in the back of his throat, the fingers on Artemis’ hip digging into his skin and trying to force him to _move_ , dammit!

So caught up in the pleasure, Jarlaxle didn’t even realize Kimmuriel was there until his lieutenant pointedly cleared his throat. Jarlaxle looked up to find him standing on the opposite side of the bed, face pinched and looking particularly displeased with the situation.

“Get out,” Artemis growled, the sound making Jarlaxle shiver, arching his hips back into him. Artemis cursed, stilling Jarlaxle with a hand on his hip.

“I have important Bregan D’aerthe business to report,” Kimmuriel said, glaring over Jarlaxle’s head at the man behind him. “It cannot wait.”

Well, Jarlaxle couldn’t either.

“Well, carry on then, both of you,” Jarlaxle said, waving the hand not holding Artemis.

There was a pause where neither spoke and where Artemis was damnably still. “Excuse me?” Artemis snapped, sounding offended.

“Kimmuriel has walked in on worse. He can give a report while we continue.”

Kimmuriel looked chagrined but unsurprised. “Matron Xorlarrin has been in contact, and she urgently—”

“You _cannot_ be serious!” Artemis hissed.

Kimmuriel tossed Artemis a glare but carried on, and Jarlaxle gave his hip a pat to remind him where they were.

“No. No, this is not happening.” Artemis pulled out of him roughly, a strangled sound of loss catching in Jarlaxle’s throat.

“But, _ssin’urn_ —!”

“No!”

Jarlaxle looked back in time to see Artemis throwing on a bathrobe with curt, angry movements before slamming the door behind him.

Jarlaxle slumped against the bed and groaned, still painfully hard. When he pulled his head up from the sheets, it was to find Kimmuriel looking at him disapprovingly. He had to laugh.

“What? He’s good at that.”

“He’s _rivvil_. He’s…” Kimmuriel’s face twisted in disgust. “He’s _that_ rivvil.”

Jarlaxle’s grin only broadened. He propped his chin up on his palm. “And?”

Kimmuriel grimaced and waved his hand. “And I wish to spend no more time thinking about it. As I was saying…”

 

Artemis was still angry when Jarlaxle found him later. Luckily Jarlaxle knew a way he could work out his frustration.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jarlaxle really needs to work on his priorities...

Artemis waited impatiently while Jarlaxle had his ear pressed to the safe, listening for the telltale _click_. His fingers moved deftly over the knob, his hat at a cock-eyed angle, and for all that they were making good time, Artemis had to stop himself from tapping his foot.

“Aha!” Jarlaxle crowed before the safe door swung open. He grinned and winked at Artemis as he reached inside, pulling out the gem-studded tiara Ilnezhara had coveted.

Artemis rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we’re all impressed.”

Jarlaxle slipped the item into his hat and flapped a hand dismissively. “Hardly. This was barely a challenge at all.”

“Good. Then we can go home and find something else worthy of our skills.”

But Jarlaxle was in no hurry, wandering about their target’s bedroom. She was a noblewoman of no small fortune, and her taste was predictably opulent, oil paintings on the walls, rich carpeting at their feet. Heavy, velvet drapes curtained the four-poster bed, and Jarlaxle let out a hum of approval when he sank onto the mattress.

Artemis shook his head when Jarlaxle laid back on the bed like he owned it. He glanced back at the door, the sounds of downstairs’ party trickling through the hall. “Thinking of redecorating?”

“Might as well. You and I share a bed more often than not, nowadays. Perhaps we should replace the two with something like this?” Jarlaxle clasped his hands behind his head, giving Artemis a meaningful once-over.

Artemis hummed noncommittally. Such ostentation didn’t suit him, and getting one bed for both of them was…

He rather liked knowing he had his own to escape to when he needed it.

“Oh, nothing quite this ornate,” Jarlaxle went on, correctly guessing half of Artemis’ thoughts. “But this mattress is lovely. Come join me.”

Jarlaxle patted the space next to him, and Artemis narrowed his eyes.

“It would take but a second!” Jarlaxle said much too innocently.

“Someone might come upstairs, you know.”

Jarlaxle shrugged and merely patted the mattress again. With a put-upon sigh and another glance at the door, Artemis stretched out next to Jarlaxle, shifting until he was comfortable. He stared up at the canopy above them, then blinked, finding their reflections staring back.

“A mirror? Seriously?”

Jarlaxle laughed. “I rather like that addition, myself.”

Artemis scowled at Jarlaxle’s reflection, which only grinned wider. “Don’t even think about it.”

“No? But I hear mirrors make a room look bigger!”

“Don’t get excited,” Artemis drawled. “That’s _all_ they make look bigger.”

“We could at least try it out!”

“We _are_ trying it out. Right now. I still don’t like it.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I _know_ what you mean, you lech.”

Jarlaxle shifted onto his side, and Artemis pretended not to notice, even as he watched Jarlaxle’s reflection reach out towards his, toying with the collar of his shirt, wearing a look he knew too well.

“I am that predictable, am I?”

The words in Artemis’ ear sent a shiver down his spine, and Artemis turned his head to give the real Jarlaxle the full force of his long-suffering look. “Completely.”

Jarlaxle’s uncovered eye glittered with amusement. “And you are suffering so terribly, are you?”

Artemis could feel his lips pulling up at the corner. “Utterly.”

Jarlaxle’s gaze dropped to those lips. He arched one eyebrow in a question.

“One round,” Artemis relented. Better to get it out of their system, he decided, so that neither of them would be… distracted on the way out. “But this is getting terribly unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional, hm?” The words came purred in Artemis’ ear, followed by the wet press of tongue that made him shiver. Jarlaxle tended to give away quite a bit of his own preferences in moments like these, in the swipe of tongue and the tug of teeth.

“You’re a distraction,” Entreri replied, aiming for scolding but coming out breathless instead. “Lately, our performance hasn’t been…”

He lost his words somewhere in the movement of Jarlaxle’s body, a graceful roll putting him on top of Artemis, thighs straddling his hips. The hat blocked his view of the mirror, for better or worse. “Oh?” Nimble fingers plucked at the ties of Artemis’ shirt, lips finding his jaw and throat. “And here I thought you were pleased with my performance last night.”

“Our _work_ performance,” Artemis huffed even as his hands found Jarlaxle’s hips, untucking Jarlaxle’s shirt to run rough palms up his back and sides. He kept an ear on the doorway, the distant drone of voices mingling with Jarlaxle’s seductive murmurs.

“I shall endeavor to be the utmost professional, then.” His words ended on a hitch of breath as Artemis rolled his hips up into him. Artemis’ lips found Jarlaxle’s ear, teeth and tongue mimicking what Jarlaxle had done to him moments ago, cataloging each shiver and soft sound that wrung from his throat.

“And we’re back to implying you’d make a good prostitute.”

Jarlaxle let out a breathless laugh and made sure Artemis felt the next press of teeth against his neck.

They didn’t dare undress completely, all seeking hands pushing and pulling at constricting clothing. Artemis knocked aside the hat as he rolled to pin the drow, only for Jarlaxle, eyes on the mirror, to stubbornly put it back on, setting it back on his head so it wouldn’t poke Artemis as they kissed. And Artemis kissed him as much to keep him quiet as for the pleasure of it, his hand wrapped around them both, squeezing and stroking them together. He wondered sometimes if Jarlaxle wanted them to get caught, the way he would hardly bother to stopper the pleasured sounds working their way up his throat. Artemis took it as a compliment, and he rather liked the way the vibrations felt, but some days it was ridiculous.

“A-Artemis-!”

Artemis gently shushed him, feeling him tremble, feeling his grip tighten, fingers turning into claws.

“J-ji veir-!”

Goosebumps rose on Artemis’ skin, hair rising at the back of his neck, and that was his first warning that there was someone at the door. The second was the turning of the handle and the sound of a feminine giggle spilling into the room.

“…so you’ll see that I—oh!”

Entreri froze, Jarlaxle going very still underneath him as they exchanged stares with the couple in the doorway. He went over the past few minutes, wondering what sound he had missed, how he hadn’t noticed their approach sooner.

The woman coughed into her hand around a laugh. “I see this room is taken. Apologies.”

She offered them a wink, shooing her companion out in front of her, and Entreri started to relax, thinking that would be the end of it—they were invited guests, after all, for certain values of ‘invited’—until she froze, stare locked on the safe. Which was still ajar.

He could kill Jarlaxle.

“You—!” was all she was able to screech out before the tap of a wand against Entreri’s thigh had the room swirling, shifting, and melting away.

Their apartment floor was cold under his knees, and he favored Jarlaxle with an unimpressed look.

“In my defense, the mirror made you doubly distracting,” Jarlaxle said with a sheepish smile.

Entreri rolled his eyes and disentangled himself from Jarlaxle’s legs. The drow sighed, shoulders slumping, giving Artemis a plaintive look when his human started to right his own clothing.

“ _Abbil_ —”

“No. We are not doing that again on the job. Is that clear?”

Jarlaxle placed a hand over his heart. “On my honor.”

Artemis looked at him askance. “You have no honor.”

“I have _some_ honor! Enough to swear upon, at least!”

Artemis huffed. “Enough for me to swear at, you mean.”

“Close enough.”

Jarlaxle’s hands on his stilled him in the act of lacings up his trousers.

“Really?”

“We’re not on the job anymore,” Jarlaxle pointed out, the look in his uncovered eye hopeful.

“No, but we _are_ on the floor.”

“And there’s an easy fix for that.”

“There’s an easy fix for your overactive libido, too,” Artemis countered, fingers mimicking a pair of scissors before he rose to his feet. He started again to lace himself up, but then Jarlaxle was in his space, pressing against him like a cat in heat.

“Overactive, hmm?” Jarlaxle purred in his ear.

“You’re proving my point.”

Jarlaxle snaked his arms around Artemis’ waist. “Have I been exhausting you, _mal’ai_?”

“You are exhausting in any context.”

For all his attempts at seduction, it was Jarlaxle’s laugh that made Artemis waver, the broad smile, the way his skin crinkled around one red eye that glittered in amusement. A fake laugh didn’t touch the eyes that way.

“One round?” Jarlaxle coaxed, noting the softening of Artemis’ resolve.

“I am considering it.”

“I have a floating mirror. We could recreate the—”

“And now I’m done considering it. Good night, Jarlaxle.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you want to spar?” Jarlaxle asked after dinner that night by the fire.

It was a common question and a common activity, but Entreri still wasn’t used to him saying the word ‘spar’ in quite that way, dropping his voice to a lower register and arching an eyebrow suggestively.

“I have been thinking of little else all evening,” Entreri purred, mimicking that tone.

Jarlaxle looked delighted until Entreri drew his sword. When he realized Entreri was serious, he sighed, rising to his feet and drawing his daggers. “You will kill me one day, and I suspect it won’t be with that.”

“Of course not. It will be with this.” Entreri drew his dagger, twirling it once about his fingers.

“So should I keep an eye out for a knife in the back?” Jarlaxle laughed.

Entreri gave him a hard smile. “ _If_ I betray you, it will be because you deserve it, and you can expect me to be looking you in the eyes when I stab you in the balls.”

“Ouch.”

“At least.”

“There are much more pleasurable places to stab me, I’ll have you kn—!”

A thrust of Entreri’s sword shut him up, if only for a moment. He laughed, dancing aside, keeping his footing on the half-frozen mud.

They had had a long day of riding, and though the standing was doing him good, the quick footwork Artemis needed to keep up with Jarlaxle was reminding him just how stiff he was. He suspected Jarlaxle was faring no better, though he hid it behind that irksome smile.

“If you had not wanted me to make stabbing jokes,” the drow said, “you ought not to have taken me up on the sparring offer.” He was fighting with swords tonight, keeping them in close range, and Entreri could guess that he was hoping for the sparring to turn into “sparring”.

“And if you didn’t want to end up stabbed for real, you ought not to have offered.”

Entreri found he was hoping for the same thing, almost to his own surprise. Almost. He was finally getting used to his body’s responses to Jarlaxle, though he’d prefer it if those responses didn’t leave the drow so damn smug.

But perhaps he could wrest that smugness from him. Entreri threw his weapons, blade-first, into the dirt, and rolled past Jarlaxle’s next attack and into his reach, barreling him into the nearest tree. He suspected Jarlaxle had let him the way he laughed, breathless from the impact, as pine needles rained down upon them. He dropped his weapons and gladly returned Artemis’ kiss.

The sting of teeth in his lip had Artemis sucking in a breath and pulling back to give Jarlaxle a look.

“What?” Jarlaxle purred after licking his lips. “You don’t think I’d yield that easily, do you?”

He spun them, his teeth finding Artemis’ throat, and Entreri’s cloak dragged against bark as he arched both into and away from him, the roughness and the heat of Jarlaxle’s body making his heart pound. He wondered what it said that his body no longer registered such behavior as a threat, at least not from Jarlaxle.

Still, the gauntlet had been thrown, and Entreri rolled his weight to spin them back, only for Jarlaxle to counter, hooking a leg around his and knocking them both off-balance. Entreri scrabbled for the tree with one hand, only to hit the ground, hard.

Stars burst behind his eyes, the impact sending vibrations of pain up his spine. He spat out curses in a jumble of languages and shoved Jarlaxle off of him so he could roll onto his side.

“Artemis?” Jarlaxle hovered, eyes wide in concern.

“ _Stop. Talking_.”

The only thing more bruised than his tailbone was his pride. Sitting hurt, so he rolled up onto his knees.

“So I take it we are done sparring for the night?” Jarlaxle asked, still eyeing him carefully.

“ _Yes_.” In both senses of the word.

“But I won, at least?”

Entreri threw him a rude gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hollow victory, to be sure...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhaha. Ha. So this fic has been finished for a while, but I keep forgetting that I haven't posted the whole thing. Whoops. Sorry for the update delay!

“Whose idea was this again?” Entreri asked with a glare that said he knew exactly whose.

Except for his smile, Jarlaxle blended in with the shadows the bars cast across their cage, and somehow, even stripped down to nothing but his trousers, Jarlaxle exuded absolute confidence. The highwaymen should have been no match for them— _would_ have been no match for them—if not for the dead magic zone they’d used to their advantage. Jarlaxle had already made plans to kill their informant for leaving out that little bit of information.

“You fret too much, _mal’ai_.”

Despite the affectionate way Jarlaxle used that title, its literal meaning itched at Entreri.

“Considering the company, I would say I fret just enough. Unless, of course, you managed to secret a wand of teleportation up your ass.” He gave Jarlaxle’s body a pointed look, one that said he wouldn’t be surprised if Jarlaxle had.

Jarlaxle’s smile didn’t move except around the eyes, which crinkled more at the corners. Seeing both eyes at once was still jarring. “Of course not! Where would you put _your_ wand?”

Entreri felt the heat rush to his face, his glare promising a painful death.

“Worry not, my friend,” Jarlaxle assured him. “I always have something up my sleeve.”

“You’re not wearing any sleeves.”

“In my pants, then?”

Artemis made a face.

Jarlaxle spread his hands, eyes wide in an expression of innocence. “What?”

“Just—” Entreri cut himself off, the grinding tread of boots over gravel telling him a guard was walking their way. He switched to drow hand code, fingers flashing out a curt, _Shut up_. _Unless you plan to pick the lock with what’s “in your pants”._

Jarlaxle smiled. The movement of Entreri’s fingers was still a bit clumsier than most drow’s, but Jarlaxle had never met anyone who could convey such sarcasm with just his hands.

He signed back. _If we incapacitate the guard, we can get his keys_ and _stop him from alerting the others._

The guard’s shadow and his steely glare swept over them. Jarlaxle met the look with a close-lipped smile while Entreri’s look promised murder.

_The other closest guard has been drinking_ , Entreri signed, eyes on the guard’s back, assessing weak points in his armor, counting weapons. _He will likely hear the call of nature soon._

Jarlaxle’s teeth flashed white in the dark. _We strike then, when our other friend makes his next pass around._

Entreri agreed, and Jarlaxle nodded to himself, confident in their abilities. He looked at his companion as he waited. Swaths of moonlight carved out the edges of Artemis’ face, the hard lines of his furrowed brow, the strong nose, and the determined press of his lips. Jarlaxle knew the edges of his face by heart but still could not help but pause to admire them.

Entreri noted the look, the light behind Jarlaxle’s red eyes making his skin itch. “What?”

“You are quite handsome, you know, _mal’ai_.”

Entreri gave him the sidelong, suspicious look he used when met with compliments. That look said he was waiting for Jarlaxle to say something else, to ask for something in exchange for the sweet words, and that realization squeezed at his heart. This was a man not used to simple kindnesses, and here was a drow trying to offer them. Jarlaxle could almost laugh at the irony.

“If you had let me install that mirror,” Jarlaxle teased instead, “perhaps you would know that.”

Entreri scoffed, rolling his eyes, but at least that guarded edge had softened. “Is this you trying to see what _I_ have ‘up my sleeve’?”

Jarlaxle chuckled, leaning his shoulder against the bars, the metal cold against his skin. “No. This is me appreciating something lovely.”

That just made Entreri even more uncomfortable to go by the tightening in his shoulders. “You are ever full of nonsense,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the guards.

Jarlaxle considered his profile again before reaching over to slide his hand over Artemis’, his own hand little more than a shadow against tanned skin. Entreri eyed him again but let Jarlaxle take that hand and press the palm to his lips.

Entreri’s skin more than itched. It felt thin, stretched tight over his bones. When Jarlaxle didn’t press for more, he did, tugging him close by the hand holding his, pulling the drow into his lap and down into a kiss.

“You are not subtle,” Entreri said, lips at Jarlaxle’s ear. He watched the guards past Jarlaxle’s shoulder as his teeth teased a pointed ear, knowing Jarlaxle’s skin blocked his from the guards’ view. The second guard shifted uncomfortably where he was standing, looking out into the woods.

Jarlaxle hummed, arching into him as he settled more comfortably into Entreri’s lap, thighs straddling his hips. Though the night was unseasonably warm, Entreri’s skin felt cold as marble, cold as the bars separating them from the night. “I believe this is usually your line, but… is this really the time?” The words were purred against Artemis’ neck, his smile indicating this was not a complaint.

“No time like the present,” Entreri said, watching the second guard say something to his companion before taking off. He counted Jarlaxle’s piercings with his tongue, the barest pinch of teeth where each earring should be adding a hitch to Jarlaxle’s breath.

That left one guard, the weight of his keys pulling his belt down on one side, but the useless fool wasn’t looking their way. One hand cupped Jarlaxle through his pants, squeezing a moan out of him and—ah. Now they had the guard’s attention.

“Hey,” the guard shouted, the squint of his eyes verifying what Entreri had suspected: Jarlaxle’s skin blended too well with the shadows for him to see them clearly. “Knock it off!” The guard picked up a rock and threw it at them, but Entreri caught it before it could strike Jarlaxle’s back, the rock making a clacking sound against his palm. As he rolled his hips into Artemis’ other hand, Jarlaxle threw a rude gesture over his shoulder that the guard couldn’t see, but the rock Entreri sent flying back to hit him in the thigh got the point across just as well.

“Ten seconds,” Entreri murmured in Jarlaxle’s ear as he watched the guard stalk their way, the roll of his hand encouraging the roll of Jarlaxle’s hips.

“Isn’t that a bit premature?” Jarlaxle quipped, his words a crooked smile against Artemis’ still-cold skin. He counted the seconds in time to the tread of boots on gravel while Artemis’ stubble threatened to rub his cheeks and lips raw.

Metal rang as the guard slammed the pommel of his sword into the bars. “I said, ‘knock it off’—!”

Jarlaxle had rolled off Entreri’s lap before the man finished speaking. A grip on the bars added leverage to Entreri’s kick, hitting the stiff leather that protected his stomach, just enough to keep the guard’s attention on him as a shadowy hand slipped the keys off his belt.

“You—!” The guard made a sloppy stab with his sword between the bars, which Entreri caught with his bare hand, the sound of his other fist meeting the guard’s skull loud enough to make Jarlaxle wince in sympathy. The man dropped like a stone.

“Impressive,” Jarlaxle said as he worked through the keyring, the lock’s magic tingling like static over his skin each time he tried the wrong one. On his third try, the lock opened with a satisfying click. “How did you manage that stoneskin enchantment?”

Entreri didn’t answer until he was able to unfold himself out of the cage, stretching with a groan. “I have a new ring.”

Jarlaxle glanced down at Artemis’ bare fingers with a questioning look.

Entreri cleared his throat, look darting to the side as he said, “It’s not on my hand.”

It took a moment, but then Jarlaxle had to slap a hand over his mouth to mute his snorting laughter.

“Shut up,” Entreri grumbled, finding the cart with their stuff and throwing a bundle Jarlaxle’s way. “I’d had… plans before…” He trailed off with an impatient wave of his hand, indicating the general situation. “We need to leave before the rest of the caravan returns.”

The idiot put on the hat but slung the rest over his shoulder, his grin bright and wide. “Well, I certainly hope you have plans ‘after’, as well. I assume it makes _all_ of you hard as a rock? That was the point, yes?” He dragged his eyes pointedly down to Artemis’ crotch.

Entreri tugged on his boots as he shoved Jarlaxle into the woods. Jarlaxle stepped barefoot into the woods, until he stepped on a pricker and had to rethink that decision.

“Do not expect a repeat. This has not been a comfortable experience.”

“Still, it is a rather ingenious way of storing magical items upon one’s person. Why had I not considered that?”

Entreri grimaced, not slowing long enough to wait for Jarlaxle, who hopped after him while wrestling on his footwear. “If you get anything pierced down there, know that I am never touching you again.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend is in serious need of a Jartemis distraction, so y'all get the last chapter early!

It had been a week. A _week_.

A merchant caravan had signed them on as guards—their only guards—through the end of the month and that had left Jarlaxle little chance to be alone with Entreri on the road.

It was almost a relief when they were beset by bandits, giving Jarlaxle a chance to work off some of his frustration. The archer in the trees fell to the ground with a dagger in the eye, and Jarlaxle was as mercilessly efficient with the bandit in front of him, a swing of his sword carving a hole in his throat.

Entreri was playing with the other three—and playing really was the only word, to go by the way he let them think they had a chance—and Jarlaxle considered offering his help, only to decide that his partner had the situation well in hand. As he watched him move, the effortless footwork, the calculated sweep of his sword, the complete control and awareness Artemis had over his body at all times, Jarlaxle could think of something else he’d like Artemis to have “well in hand”.

Finally Entreri grew bored and finished them off in rapid succession, the arc of his dagger almost too quick to see. “Thank you for your assistance,” he drawled as he turned to Jarlaxle, but the next words died in his throat at the heat in Jarlaxle’s gaze.

Jarlaxle wondered how much their clients would mind if he pounced on his partner in the middle of the road. Artemis cleared his throat, heat bringing some color to his grayed cheeks as he wiped the blood from his blades and sheathed them, watching Jarlaxle out of the corner of his eye as though expecting exactly that.

“Help me move the bodies out of the road,” he said.

“I want you.”

“That’s… really not the response I was expecting to get to that statement.”

Jarlaxle pulled him in by the belt, his lips cutting off Entreri’s next protest, and he could hear the merchants and their families whispering to each other as they peeked out from their wagons. Entreri pulled back with a dazed look, hands on Jarlaxle’s arms as he licked his lips.

“This is really not the time.”

“We can make it the time,” Jarlaxle insisted, standing as close as Artemis would let him.

“In the middle of a bandit-infested road? I know you have an exhibitionist streak, Jarlaxle, but that is a little much for me. The next village is two days away. I think you can survive that long.”

Jarlaxle groaned in frustration, his head dropping to Artemis’ shoulder, hat and feather hitting him in the face. Artemis smelled divine, like dirt and blood and sweat and _sex_ , and Jarlaxle _wanted_. “It’s already been too long. I am wasting away, Artemis. Put me out of my misery!”

“It’s been a week!” Entreri said incredulously, spitting the feather out of his mouth.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jarlaxle hissed. He leaned back to look at Entreri, unsure what he was failing to grasp about the situation. “It’s been _a week_.”

Entreri simply returned the look, just as uncomprehending.

Jarlaxle huffed. “I don’t know if I should take it as an insult that you are not more affected by that.”

Artemis shrugged. “Sex has never been a priority for me. You know this.”

“Yes, but that was before you experienced sex with _me_.”

Entreri quirked an eyebrow, amused but decidedly unimpressed by the show of arrogance. When Jarlaxle’s shoulders started to sag, he sighed and added, “I enjoy it well enough when we have it, but a week is hardly that long a time.”

“‘Well enough’?”

“I said I enjoy it. I am certainly looking forward to having my way with you when we finally roll into town.” It was almost unfair the way he did that, his voice dropping to a sultry growl as he took a step closer into Jarlaxle’s space. Everything about him spoke of _heat_ , the look in his gaze, the near predatory posture, and Jarlaxle wondered if the stupid man had any idea of the effect he could have on a person. “But, that isn’t for another two days, so I am simply not thinking about it.”

When Artemis stepped back, Jarlaxle’s whine was only partly theatrical. “This is because you are from the desert, isn’t it? You are like a human camel. A camel can go unnaturally long without water. And you—”

“Sex is not water. And if this is you working up to another ‘riding’ euphemism—”

“Of course not.”

“—or a comment about humps—”

“Me? Never!”

Entreri gave him a doubtful look as he stepped back, bending to lift up one of the corpses by the armpits.

“Perhaps one of the merchants’ wives can be coaxed away from her husband in the meantime,” Jarlaxle said in Drow as he moved to help, picking up the corpse by the ankles. Jarlaxle waited for the usual long-suffering sigh, the eyeroll, but instead Entreri paused, his shoulders a stiff line and his thoughts tucked behind a stony scowl. That reaction caught Jarlaxle off-guard. “Or perhaps not,” he backpedaled, carefully watching his expression. “They are rather homely, and I doubt they would take kindly to me fantasizing about your ass and calling them Artemis.”

And there was the sigh and the eyeroll, something unclenching in Artemis’ shoulders. Jarlaxle had the uneasy feeling that he had overlooked something important.

“Two days,” Entreri said as they started moving again. “You will survive.”

 

Or he would, if he didn’t convince Entreri to kill him first. The drow insisted he was suffering and seemed all the more determined to make sure Artemis suffered with him. He said nothing more about wanting Artemis to bed him, but he did not need to when Entreri could read the subtle twitches of his fingers in drow handcode.

Apparently Jarlaxle had been putting a great deal of thought into what he wanted, because right now his fingers were giving a very detailed description of what he planned to do with his tongue, all while Jarlaxle was having a seemingly casual conversation with the carriage driver on the other side of the campfire. Jarlaxle had more than once accused Entreri of having no imagination, but Entreri was imagining every detail just fine.

_I hate you_ , Entreri signed back, not quite as subtle as Jarlaxle but drawing no extra attention either. _Is this necessary?_

Jarlaxle gave him an innocent look as though he had no idea what Entreri could possibly mean, but he did stop. Or at least, he stopped describing his tongue.

_I haven’t yet detailed all the ways in which I plan to ride you._ Jarlaxle laughed at something the carriage driver said, seemed thoroughly engaged by the conversation except for the way his gaze slid back to Artemis, that one red eye communicating more desire than mere words could.

Entreri gritted his teeth, adjusted the fall of his cloak around his shoulders to make sure it was hiding a particular problem the damn drow was giving him. Jarlaxle looked much too smug about that, but Entreri supposed that two could play at that game.

_You can’t ride me if I tie you to the bed_. Entreri calmly blew on the cup of thin stew in his hand and pretended to be more interested in the curl of steam than in the way Jarlaxle’s ears pricked in interest.

Slowly, Jarlaxle’s fingers sketched one sign: _Go on_.

A smirk twitched at Entreri’s lips, but he took his time, eating a few spoonsful of stew. When Jarlaxle started to fidget, he signed, _I will strip you down to your skin. No clothes. No jewelry. No eyesore hat._

Jarlaxle snorted a laugh.

_I will tie your wrists to the bedposts with that magic belt of yours. I will blindfold you so that your body won’t be able to anticipate my touch. And I_ will _touch you, thoroughly, until I have you begging._

Artemis watched Jarlaxle swallow. He was no longer pretending to pay attention to the carriage driver.

_And then what?_

Artemis smiled. _And then I will gather all your magical items, your jewelry, and your clothing into your hat and leave for warmer climes, a much richer man._

Jarlaxle’s interest flattened into a scowl, even his ears drooping, and that look forced a quiet, wheezing laugh from Artemis.

_Sex camel_ , Jarlaxle mouthed, pointing accusingly in his direction. Clearly the drow had no hand signal for such a thing.

Entreri grinned a shark’s grin back at him over his cup, the carriage driver looking between the two of them, brows knit in confusion.

 

Rain and muddy terrain slowed them down an extra few days, leaving Jarlaxle wet and scowling when they finally rolled into the next town. Entreri expected the drow to drag him off to the first secluded corner he could find, but suddenly Jarlaxle seemed to have lost interest.

Entreri didn’t trust that for a moment.

“So which one, do you think?” Jarlaxle asked, a finger pressed to his lips.

Entreri thought he was referring to the drinks, until he sat back in his chair and realized Jarlaxle was eyeing the pair of serving wenches currently neglecting their duties by the bar. He stiffened, needing a moment to sort through the clash of emotions, the tangle of confusion, disappointment, and anger, aware of the way Jarlaxle’s gaze slid to watch him out of the corner of his eye. Entreri realized he was being toyed with and gritted his teeth, deciding the emotion he was going to feel was anger.

“Which one will serve us, I mean,” Jarlaxle added, much too innocently. “Or did you, perhaps, think I meant something else?”

Entreri’s glare answered for him.

Jarlaxle hummed, and Entreri hated that, hated that Jarlaxle was the one person unaffected by his anger. In the back of his mind, he supposed that was a good thing.

“Well, in that case, I would go with the brunette, of course. It would be a waste not to with lips like that.”

“Jarlaxle,” Entreri growled. He tried to remind himself that he hadn’t planned to put limitations on him, but it turned out anger felt a lot like fear.

“I will go speak to her.”

Entreri knew Jarlaxle was assessing his reactions, but he reacted anyway, standing when Jarlaxle stood, stopping him with a hand on his arm. Jarlaxle was all smiles when he looked at him, but he tilted his head the way he did when he was observing something interesting. Entreri couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just failed some test.

“Am I not allowed to go order our drinks?”

“You could just wave her over.”

“I could do a lot of things.” There was the barest edge to Jarlaxle’s voice, but he turned into Entreri’s hold so that they were standing chest to chest. There was heat but also something like a challenge in his stare. Artemis could feel that look in his blood, and he was suddenly aware of his body telling him that, yes, two weeks was a long time for them.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in or who pulled whom, but Jarlaxle’s hands were in his shirt and Jarlaxle’s tongue was in his mouth, his body a line of heat against Artemis’ front. Entreri considered pinning him to the table but a wolf-whistle from across the room reminded him that they were in public.

Entreri tossed a glare in the direction of their audience, kicked his chair out of the way as he tugged Jarlaxle after him, making for the stairs. They made it to their door but didn’t open it, Entreri pinning Jarlaxle against it as he’d fumbled for the doorknob, teeth knocking in a harsh kiss. Jarlaxle pushed aside Artemis’ cloak, clever fingers pulling at fabric still stiff and muddy from the road.

Entreri had Jarlaxle’s belt undone and one hand down the back of his pants when Jarlaxle bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, making him jump with a disgruntled sound in his throat.

“Door,” Jarlaxle panted, licking his lips. He offered Artemis a loose smile. “And you say _I’m_ the exhibitionist.”

Entreri remembered they were still in the hall, remembered too the number of times they’d been interrupted in the intervening months. “You are,” he grumbled, turning the doorknob and pushing Jarlaxle into the room.

The sex was rough and quick, Jarlaxle’s nails digging lines into Artemis’ back, legs clamped around him in as much as a wrestling move as an embrace, and Entreri reciprocated with teeth at his neck and a hard snap of his hips that made the headboard rattle against the wall. There was something single-mindedly possessive in it, a determination to make sure he was the only thing on Jarlaxle’s mind. His name was certainly the only thing on Jarlaxle’s lips.

“Ah-! _Artemis-_!”

Jarlaxle’s cries had reached a pitch Artemis knew well, his back bowing, nails drawing blood as he came. He clung on while Artemis continued his relentless pace, Jarlaxle’s skin between his teeth stoppering the moans bubbling up his throat before he stiffened too, hips moving in a few more shaky pulses before he slowed to a stop.

Entreri’s chest heaved against Jarlaxle’s as he caught his breath, his cheek pressed to a pointed ear. Dark fingers came up to card through his sweaty hair and massage his scalp, and only then did Artemis allow himself to unclench, slowly, carefully resting his weight on Jarlaxle.

A sharp pinch of teeth at his ear shot straight down his spine. “I do so like it when you’re rough,” Jarlaxle purred, free hand stroking over the stinging lines he’d carved into Artemis’ back.

“You could just ask next time,” Entreri groused, “instead of… whatever that was.”

“Yes, whatever was that?” A tug on Entreri’s hair forced him to lever himself up on his elbows and look Jarlaxle in the eye. “You could have just said you’d rather the barmaid _not_ join us, though I did rather enjoy the result.”

“…Join.”

“Have you never had a threesome before?”

Entreri was too busy rewriting the past half hour in his mind to pay attention to that question. He would not have been interested regardless, but that wasn’t what Entreri had thought Jarlaxle had been angling for.

Jarlaxle tilted his head again, studying his face. Artemis didn’t realize he was frowning until Jarlaxle’s lips brushed his. “Would a male have been preferable?”

“No!” The word came out before Entreri even realized that was his answer. But the thought of a male touching him other than Jarlaxle was… “No.”

Jarlaxle sighed, but his fingers were gentle in Entreri’s hair again. Entreri looked for the exasperation in his face but just saw bemusement. He didn’t understand that look.

“You are already more than I can handle at the moment,” Entreri drawled, one finger tracing the edge of Jarlaxle’s ear.

Jarlaxle hummed, leaning into the touch, legs adjusting their grip on Artemis’ waist. “What about Ilnezhara?”

“Definitely not.”

“Tazmikella?”

“You are not bringing a dragon into my bed. You will have to make do with just me.”

Jarlaxle laughed. “Just you, hmm?”

He had a feeling Jarlaxle wasn’t aware of the weight in those words. “Yes.”

Entreri felt the press of Jarlaxle’s knees into his sides, and he let Jarlaxle roll him to sit astride his hips. His breath hitched when Jarlaxle rolled his hips, too soon still to respond. “Well, _mal’ai_ , you have some time to make up for.”

“Do I, now?” Artemis heard the smile in his own voice, his hands tracing the muscled perfection of Jarlaxle’s thighs.

“Two weeks,” Jarlaxle said with gravity.

“Thirteen days,” Entreri corrected, but that only made Jarlaxle’s smile curl higher.

“You were counting.”

Artemis capitulated with a shrug, bending his knees and pulling Jarlaxle down into him, hands exploring the pleasing planes of his body. “Well, even camels need water sometimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! :D
> 
> I'm in the final edits of a novel right now, but after that, I'll have a chance to poke at the next piece. Keep an eye out!


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